


Achilles

by Angelily_Viventis



Series: Alan Rickman x Plus-size reader [63]
Category: Alan Rickman - Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Older Man/Younger Woman, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:01:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28034325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelily_Viventis/pseuds/Angelily_Viventis
Summary: Alan is often times oblivious to his wife's non-sexual needs. When she nags him about her potentially injured achilles, he thinks she's only doing it to get some in bed.
Relationships: Alan Rickman/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Alan Rickman x Plus-size reader [63]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1729954
Kudos: 3





	Achilles

"I made you a plate to eat," Alan offers, placing his wife's dinner on the dinner table, in her usual spot next to him.

"Hmf," she scoffs from her spot on the couch, reluctantly locking her phone and slowly limping towards the dining room table.

He takes note of the limp but pays it no mind as he pulls her chair out with one hand while already in his seated position.

Dinner goes over quietly, despite Alan's attempts to make his wife smile again by telling some absurdly funny anecdotes which didn't even tug the corners of her mouth upward. 

"You don't fancy a drink?" His chestnut eyes indicate to her full glass of white wine sitting untouched next to her plate.

"Not when we're not on the same level of being able to enjoy it, no."

"My, my, but you are feisty today."

"Keep your hand to yourself, Rickman," she states in annoyance, removing his hand from her upper thigh and plopping it down into his lap.

He takes the rejection with grace, although humoured, merely pursing his lips.

"Come on, you know you can't stay cross with me for too long."

"Then grab yourself a ticket because you're about to get a front-row seat to watching me try."

"I don't understand what the big issue is, darling," he breathes, leaning into her with his elbow resting on the dining table.

"All I'm saying is that I would've appreciated some help with the groceries. You know my achilles have been acting up..."

He watches as she meticulously scrapes the peas aside, almost like second nature with no thought to spare the poor green blips, before she places her cutlery together on the plate and pushes it away from her.

"Still? I-I thought--"

"You thought what?"

Her eyebrow furrows in rising anger as his hand reaches for his wine glass, bringing the crisp yellow liquid to his lips and taking a sip.

He pulls his shoulders up in defence, an embarrassed smile playing on his lips, "I thought you were making that up to get some nookie."

She gasps audibly, slapping him on the shoulder, "I can't believe you! I would never do such a thing."

"My apologies, dear," he nuzzles into her neck despite her pulling away, "I didn't know you were in pain."

"The only pain I'm experiencing right now is square in my arse," she rolls her eyes at him before grabbing her plate and hobbling over to the sink.

He sits there, watching her, listening as she deliberately bangs her cutlery against the sink, water droplets flying everywhere as she shoves her plate into the dishwasher.

He shakes his head minutely, a devilish smile creeping onto his ageing features.

She huffs as she feels his pair of strong arms wrap around her middle from behind.

"You can be so cranky sometimes. Let the dishes be and I promise, if you come with me, I'll take all your pain away."

She purses her lips in annoyance, contemplating whether she should give in or let him sweat for a while, but she knows her pain is taking over all of her thoughts and she has no energy left to fight him. 

He smiles smugly as he hears her tut to herself, knowing that she's giving in to his request, and leads her by the hand over to the plush corner sofa.

He plumps a few pillows for her before waiting for her to settle down, draping the mustard yellow cashmere throw over her and tucking her in.

"I'll be back," he promises with a kiss on her forehead as he disappears upstairs only to return moments later with an array of creams and lotions.

Before settling down on the sofa next to her, he makes a stop at the stereo system in the far corner, selecting a variety of Bach and Mozart to play.

(Y/N) revels in the way his warm hands tenderly run down her cold feet as he positions her legs across his lap.

She sinks further back into the pillows against the sofa, moaning in pleasure as he massages Lidocaine pain relief cream into her achilles tendon.

"Hmmmm-ugh!!" She seethes, pulling her foot back towards her in reflex as Alan hits a tender spot.

"Ow, fuck! Ow, ow, ow!" Her face scrunches up in agony as she rubs at the shooting pain running up the back of her calf.

Before she knows it tears run down her cheeks as the months of a painful achilles are finally catching up to her.

"I-I," she cries with a sudden expulsion of breath. "I can't take this a-anymore. This constant... fucking pain! For months on end. N-nothing I d-do makes it better."

"Oh, Darling," Alan breathes, feeling guilty that he never paid her discomfort any attention.

He tucks her into his side as she sits upright, holding her close and comforting her. He waits patiently for her tears and pain to subside all the while placing sweet kisses in her hair and whispering "everything will be alright" in her ear. 

Once she's assumed her stretched-out position on the sofa again, he continues his massage.

"Darling, I never imagined it was this sore. Perhaps we should make you an appointment at the doctor?" He suggests sweetly as he waits for her to slowly lower her foot into his lap again.

"Hm, yeah," she seethes as he eases the pressure of his massaging fingers, "I think it's about time I see someone about it."

She nearly falls asleep moments later, listening quietly to the classical sounds of violins and cellos playing in the background, as Alan continues his amazing massage.

He moves from her painful achilles to her feet, his thumbs pressing deliciously deep into the soft parts of her soles. He pulls her toes back and forth, paying special attention to the spaces in between each toe.

She can practically see the endorphins swimming around in her brain, the tension starting to ooze out from her muscles as relaxation fills her, her earlier upset slipping from her mind.

She's softly awakened from her not-so-deep slumber as she feels two warm fuzzy socks being slipped over her thoroughly massaged feet. Her eyes flutter open, her hand immediately going up to rest on her forehead.

She watches as Alan closes all the caps on the bottles of creams and lotions, rubbing the last of the cream into his hands, and as he comfortably sinks back into the sofa she manoeuvres herself to curl up against his side.

He gives a small chuckle, "What?"

"Thank you for my foot massage," she says sleepily as she stares up at him, her chin resting against his upper arm, her hand resting over his heart.

He waits in anticipation as she leans in and kisses him with her perfectly plump lips.

"You are most welcome, my dear," he breathes as they pull apart, smiling satisfactorily.

"And I'm ever-so-sorry about acting out earlier. I know you're busy and can't always immediately help."

"No need to apologize. I can be oblivious to your non-sexual needs sometimes," his hand runs down her shoulder, feeling the fuzziness of her maroon sweater under his fingertips.

She smiles up at him dreamily, placing another kiss on his perfect lips that suggests the promise of something more later.


End file.
